


Painted Lies & Demon Eyes

by LivvyMae



Series: PL&DE Series [1]
Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: "I love you Star", "Tom" has entered the chat, Also Starco so yeah, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Amnesia, Angel Healing, Angel Wings, Angel/Demon Relationship, Angels, Angels vs. Demons, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arranged Marriage, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Curses, Cute, Death, Demonic Possession, Demons, Dorks in Love, Drama, Drama & Romance, EVERYBODY JUST GET ALONG DAMMIT, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fallen Angels, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Flying, Forbidden Love, Hahahaha Marco better watch himself, Healing, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Love/Hate, Marco is so sarcastic I love it, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Memory Magic, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Psychological Trauma, Recovered Memories, Recovery, Romance, So much angst, Svtfoe, Tom is lowkey a supervillain, Trauma, Unrequited Love, Violence, a demon and angel... falling in love??, drama is my favorite kind of tea, hurt lil children, isn't that kind of... forbidden?, lil broken souls, poor babes, romeo and juliet y'all, starco, tags are getting too big, these kiddos are all hurt :(, this love triangle is insane man, where is the adult supervision, y'all are gonna flip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23485465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivvyMae/pseuds/LivvyMae
Summary: Marco has lived his whole life as a demon with his brother, Tom. The Underworld and demonic lifestyle is all he's ever known, torturing others and the occasional short temper.But when he begins having reccurring nightmares about a mysterious girl, Tom begins to act odd. Though the gruesome answers aren't what Marco is looking for, it's just what he needs to unlock his true past.Accepting the truth is difficult, yet the girl in his nightmares is the only thing that can help him do so.
Relationships: Marco Diaz/Tom Lucitor, Star Butterfly/Marco Diaz, Star Butterfly/Tom Lucitor
Series: PL&DE Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689637
Comments: 24
Kudos: 36





	1. Night Terrors

“Marco... Marco.” 

A hand landed on my shoulder, shaking me awake and yanking me out of my deep consciousness. My clawed fingers were out in front of me, scratching at the air as I sat up suddenly. A sudden gasp of life, a single jolt - I awoke in an instant, rising up, alive and alert. My heart was battering in my chest and I couldn’t seem to cease the trembling of my hands. Even my wings seemed to unwind and shudder. A sweat had crept over me, just like it always had after nights like these - when the nightmares were this bad.

My brother, Tom, frightened, had fallen on the ground backwards and got up just as quickly, straightening himself out and surrendering his hands out in front of him. 

“Hey!” He began with a hushed and shaky voice. “Calm down. It's just me.”

My wings had settled and folded themselves back behind me and I wiped the moisture collecting from my forehead. 

“It's getting worse. This time, you were yelling in your sleep.” When he spoke in a whisper, there was an emotion I couldn’t quite grasp. 

_Uneasiness? Exasperation? Exhaustion?_

He rubbed his tired beetroot colored demon eyes. 

“It was the same nightmare again. The one with that girl…” I mumbled once my breath steadied. 

Tom sighed, holding his face with his hands and plummeted onto the edge of my bed, sitting there. A curse was evident in his exhale. 

“Why do I keep messing it all up?” He muttered to himself, a little shaky.

I could finally identify it now. His voice was a tired, broken thing - distress - hopelessness. 

The room fell silent. I wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“Marco?” His voice pierced through the silence.

“Yeah?”

“What's the earliest thing you can remember?"

“What?” I began to chortle, but Tom didn't. He took his hands away from his face to turn to me. His eyes were hard and stern. “Are you serious?” I asked, judging by the look on his face, I knew he was.

“What is the earliest thing in your life that you remember?” His eyes faltered momentarily, dropping to stare at the ground before meeting with mine again.

I thought for a bit, leaving Tom and the bedroom that we shared in a stillness. “Oh, I know.” I finally spoke up. I chuckled a bit when I talked, the memory, a funny one. “We were younger and you were so mad that I beat you in ping pong, you nailed my wings to the wall.” 

Tom stared out in front of the dark void of our bedroom. A beat of silence. Then he let out a small, breathy laugh. 

It wasn’t anything worthy of a real, true laugh yet just one that was only a mimic, a chortle that exhaled through his nose. 

“I must have been stuck there for a whole hour before you came back to get me.” I went on.

“That's cruel.” Tom chortled. 

“You're the one that did it!” I exclaimed, making me erupt in a full, heavy laughter, resulting in my brother to join in. Something of the atmosphere had lifted, yet when our laughs had died, so did my brother's temporary smile. 

“Look, I, uh… gotta tell you something.” He began, his tone descending back to a low, solemn volume. 

He must have been expecting me to answer due to a long pause. 

When I didn't say anything, he continued. “It's actually - well, it's... _complicated.”_

“Dude, just say it already.” I teased, nudging his shoulder. He let out one final snicker before rubbing his arm. And again, his smile faded. 

“Nevermind, it's nothing. It's… not important, I guess.” With that, he avoided eye contact with me and headed straight back to his own bed on the other side of the room. 

“Okay…” I muttered with a slight smirk and eye roll, knowing my brother had a tendency to be weird. I laid back down on my bed, letting the rest of the sweat dry off my body before tucking my wings around me to use as a cocoon. 

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder...

_What are you hiding from me, Tom?_


	2. Fraud in the Mirror

"This should help with the swelling." He said, rubbing in the lotion around the area of my wings until the medication stung. It began burning so much, in fact, that I had to repeatedly pound my fist into the kitchen island to compose myself until the pain subsided. 

"Stop moving them." Tom's slightly agitated voice grumbled from behind me. 

"I can't. They do what they want." I retorted back. I sighed heavily and when I finally turned to face him, I saw it - the familiar look of pity overcoming his face, studying me heavily.

For the past few days, Tom had been acting... _strange..._

It started with the nightmares. The more frequent and worse the nightmares became, the more some sort of shift became of him. He seemed more... distant somehow, more drawn into himself. 

There were times when I would catch him staring blankly out in front of him for hours on end, as still and silent as stone itself. 

Something was waning on him, making him restless and irritable. Unfortunately for me, I became his target of unfathomable anger and passive-aggressivensss lately. 

Yet, quite frankly, he was a wild card of emotions. I could never really predict which emotion would prevail, nor did I ever understand Tom in general. 

Our talk just last night feels so surreal, considering I hadn't shared a laugh with Tom in a _long_ time, an echo of an eternity ago. 

"Are you done?" I asked, impatience noted in my tone. He didn't answer. He just stood there, staring at me with that same look. "Hey. Underworld to Tom?"

"What?" He blankly responded, blinking his eyes as if to awaken from a daydream. 

"Are you done?" I repeated, more impatient than the last time. 

He put the bottle of lotion down and dropped his stare. "Uh... yeah. I-I'm done."

"You okay?" 

"I'm fine. Really... I am." He smiled yet something of it appeared forceful and fake rather than genuine. 

Tom went off into the corridors of lit torches that lead to our bedroom, leaving me in the kitchen. With the top half of my body resting on the countertop, I picked myself up, my wings still just as sore as they were for a week now. 

My infection was beginning to take its toll on me and physical movement became a burden more than ever. 

I was about to follow in Tom's wake to the corridor yet my reflection in my peripheral vision had captured my attention. My vivid green eyes stared vacantly back at me. I couldn't help but study how my red horns descended from an already intense red, like my wings, to a fine black point, like my fingernails and my ears stood on end, perked to a curved point.

My pair of fangs hung out from the front of my bottom lip, slightly revealing themselves instead of hiding like the rest of my flattened teeth. They may be difficult to spot at first, but when I smile, they are visible. 

I turned away and found myself looking down the hall where Tom had gone. I took one final, sparing glance at myself in the mirror, taking in my appearance once more. Yet, something of my reflection had been curiously altered, so much so, that I did a double take. 

I yelped in instinct, causing my body to stumble and crash into the wall behind me.

The boy in the mirror followed my actions. With his mouth open in shock, his fangs were gone. He had light brown eyes and matching dark hair but without horns. His wings - he had none. I had been wearing no shirt at the time, yet the boy in the mirror had on a light red hoodie.

He had the same terror in his eyes as I did.

Something about him - I _knew_ that reflection. I _knew_ that face. 

But... from _where?_

"Tom!" I shouted, panic driving my voice to a frenzied volume. "Tom!" The boy in the mirror copied me, mocking me, teasing me, _perfecting me._

...

Tom practically fell into the doorway, assessing the situation as it unfolded before him. His mouth hung open in a bewildered silence. He wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. 

I pointed with a shaking finger out in front of me at the mirror, locking eyes onto him. 

"The mirror." I said.

Something about his face appeared more dumbfounded now than alarmed this time. 

"The _mirror?"_ He echoed, his eyebrow went up in skepticism. 

Though I could only imagine how idiotic I sounded to him, creating hysteria and urgency over a mirror. 

"Look." I said, my finger still outstretched. Just as Tom glanced over at the mirror on the wall, the taunting boy had disappeared. I mentally cursed, realizing my moment of distraction was taken for granted. 

I approached closer, this time my reflection was true, fangs, horns, wings and all. "What? No. Nononono! I-I saw it - someone else. But - _how?"_ I tore the mirror off of the wall to inspect it closer. 

Tom stood next to me, rendered speechless. 

I growled in aggravation, holding the mirror up to my face. "It was real! I saw it!" From behind me, Tom stepped into the reflection. The same damn pitiful look came back to his face.

My anger flared up inside of me and I felt as if I could just snap the mirror in half.

"What?" I snapped at Tom, turning around to meet his real face. 

"What do you mean what?" 

"What is with that stupid look on your face?"

Tom held his temples in distress, an uneven sigh escaping him. "It's... it's nothing."

Judging by the way he bit his bottom lip to keep it from noticeably shaking and by the way he ran his fingers through his hair, I could tell that he was lying. 

But before I could question it, he retreated back out into the corridors, his head hung down as if to conceal the look on his face. 

Once again, he had flipped a switch, yet I had no idea what had triggered it. I stood there in the kitchen, debating whether to approach him or not. The last time I tried to talk to Tom, he almost scathed me with a sphere of fire. 

By the time I had made up my mind to go talk to him, I couldn't even find him. 

Ironically enough, the last place I found him was the first place I had not thought to check.

...

The scorching heat outside of the castle only seemed to aid in exhausting me further. It was dizzying and I had to steer myself steady with the balustrade of the front steps. 

Tom was sitting there, knees tucked into him and his upper body bent over, curled into himself. He often found solitude in the center of the Underworld, where the lava pit formed and the distant demonic screams of the residents were absolute. It brought him solace and pleasure to hear the suffering of others.

I hadn't intended on him overhearing my sudden presence, yet the scuffing of my feet must have been an accidental giveaway. His head lifted and turned, yet only halfway, before turning away completely and wiping his face. 

"You shouldn't be out here." His voice broke through, unsteady at first, reflecting a tone of breakage and vulnerability. 

This, I was aware of, considering for the past few weeks, I have been having trouble staying conscious in the overwhelming heat of the Underworld. In fact, a noticeable light-headedness was already taking effect as I stood there on the steps. 

I neared closer to him now, deeming it safe to proceed and sit down next to Tom. 

"Are you okay?" I said, disregarding his previous statement. 

He gazed up at me then and the answer was obvious in his face. His eyes were rimmed with redness and his cheeks were damp. Just the sight of him was startling enough but above all, the way he did not deny it had momentarily staggered me. 

Something about him - it was raw and true. Whatever the loss was, he was hurting. 

"You really don't remember, do you?" His voice was low and gravelly, almost worn. 

"I... I don't..." I couldn't muster another word. 

My gaze dropped down to his lap now, something in his embrace that had piqued my interest. 

It was red and molded with horns - a headband. 

His stare was hard and fixated on the accessory in his hands. The gravely dark look of his face read an eeriness, a bitter echo and a grim reminder. Something of his face read some sort of a quiet, seething vengeance. 

"Tom," I murmured. "What's going on?"

For a moment, and only a moment, he met my eyes. One moment, one breath-seizing, blood-curdling moment, the look on his face became real. 

Real wrath, real underlining vengeance in his hardened glare. 

Real, raw emotion in his stone face - his reddened, tired eyes, tear-stained cheeks, an overall violet blush in his naturally lavender skin tone. 

Something of it frightened me, shook my core. 

The way his blank yet concentrated stare pierced through me, impaling through me as if _I_ was somehow the gut-wrenching source of his pain and he had finally realized me as the enemy in front of him. 

Something in his face - was a haunting presence. Almost like the answer to avenging his grief was so clear and all he had to do was _strike..._

Then, just like that, gone. Devoid of any disturbance or pain - just defeat. 

His head hung back down to distract himself with the headband, cradling it into him.

"You wouldn't believe me." He finally said. 

"Just talk to me, Tom." I insisted, despite his beliefs. "I mean, c'mon. We're brothers, aren't we?"

"Stop." 

The sudden, audible demand was something of an absurdness, a sort of hilarity, that I had to laugh. 

"What? I was just-"

 _"We_ are _not_ brothers, Marco-"

"How could you say that-?"

"No, stop!" Tom's protesting grew louder now. He rose from the steps to meet my face. "You can't actually _believe_ that."

"I... don't get it." Was all I could manage to say.

"No, of course you don't, Marco! Because _you_ aren't a _demon!_ And you are _not_ my brother." The booming strength in his voice as he shouted back quaked the Underworld. It was vocalized throughout the void, welcome to anyone in a mile radius to concern. 

Something in his tone of voice, of the way he neared closer to emphasize his words, had stunned me back. A pang rose in my chest and suddenly, the whirling dizziness of the molten core's heat became too much to endure. 

Tom froze. He must've been able to read the obvious impact of his infliction on my face. 

"Marco, I-"

"It's fine." I concluded, rising up now before I could succumb to the strangling temperature. "I get it now."

And before he could say another word, I stumbled back into the safety of the castle doors and into the freeing, merciful air. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! It's Liv, author of Painted Lies & Demon Eyes! I originally publish my works on Wattpad but going back and revising/rewriting these early chapters of this story, I've decided to branch out to AO3 - and fanfiction.net eventually, haha. 
> 
> I love to know what you all think and see your feedback so please leave a comment and kudos! Thank you and stay tuned for the next update! :)


	3. Human, Demon, or Something Else?

_It all felt too real._

_The feeling of new bones forming and breaking through my skin and growing out beyond my back._

_The noise it made when they were growing, transforming._

_Wings, horns, fangs._

_I fell forward in excruciating pain. The sound of crunching and cracking, bones reconfiguring._

… 

I woke up screaming. Tom was up again, as always. He had been watching from his own bed, many feet away. 

_What the hell was he looking at?_

“Don't.” I snapped. 

"I didn't even say anything." 

"Yeah, but you were thinking it.” My teeth were going to break and shatter under the grit pressure. 

Ever since he had lashed out on me that day, I deliberately tried to shun him.

Everytime we coincidentally happened to be in the same room at the same time, tension was soon to follow. Sideways glares, cold silences, or snarky comebacks to resentful exchange in talk. 

Tonight’s brief exchange was the most we had spoken all day, to say the least.

Nonetheless, I rose from my bed, unable to muster the strength and energy to argue with him. I ran my fingers through my bedhead and my wings shuddered awake from behind, stretching themselves out before resting and furling back to my sides. 

As I passed by him to the kitchen, I felt his eyes follow. 

I should’ve anticipated his next move as he rose from his bed now too and began stalking me cautiously, almost as if not to arouse or provoke me. 

_Seriously, I really needed a room in the castle to myself._

Just the knowledge of his lingering presence alone was getting under my skin. 

I sighed heavily, stopping myself, then rotating on my heels. The sudden action was enough to startle Tom, causing him to reel back to avoid bumping into me. 

“Tom-”

“Why don’t you believe me?” He interjected before I could accuse him of anything.

“What are you-” I turned back around to continue down the hall.

 _“Star,_ Marco! I’m talking about _Star!”_ His voice boomed through the corridors, bleeding out throughout the abyss. 

I halted. 

I would’ve simply disregarded him but something struck me, the way his voice seemed to ring off the walls of the corridor and reverberate. 

_But that name…_

_Star…_

_Why was that name so familiar?_

I turned back around to face him, to see the anger on his face yet instead, it was alarmingly somber and cemented. 

I could only imagine the look on my own face - an opposing mix of confusion yet realization. 

Something of the name - it resonated somehow. It was like an old life, memories that did not belong to me yet… at the same time… I _remembered_ the remnants of it. 

Like shattered glass - finally putting the puzzled pieces back together. 

Like a crumpled, faded photograph found - a distant echo of the past.

“What-?” I couldn’t speak. A bolder was lodged in my throat, practically choking me.

“So you _do_ remember…” Tom’s voice had reached a calmer volume, as if I had told him enough. 

“No. I-” Maybe I was too quick to answer but then again, I didn’t exactly ask to be interrogated in the middle of the night, especially after one of my recurring nightmares. “Just… leave me alone, okay?”

I left for good this time, to the kitchen, leaving Tom astray. 

The door swung open with a violent force. What had once been a nuisance had now festered into a rotten disgust and fury. I went straight for the food pantry. I stormed in, looking for anything appetizing. Quite frankly, there had to be something more tasteful and edible other than raw meat or stale cockroaches. My face scrunched up in disgust. I had never really had a problem with ordinary monstrous food before yet, for some reason, the thought of devouring anything in the pantry made my stomach churn.

Maybe it was my late night hunger or lack of proper sleep but I discovered myself to become more and more irritable by the second. I left the pantry, giving up. 

I thought for a moment. There had to be some bubbling punch or something to drink. 

In the midst of my search, I overheard the door screech open on its hinges - Tom.

Man, I should’ve _really_ anticipated that.

Now, here he was - not yet ready to let it go.

“You can’t just deny it!” He persisted. 

“Deny _what, exactly?”_ I glared at him. He took the hostile cue as a challenge.

“You remember her. I _know_ you do, Marco.” He approached me closer now, closing the thick space between us. He ceased on the opposite side of the island table. “How could you not remember what you did to her?”

His voice was low and dark. The lit fireplace’s light reflected off his face, renouncing half of his face to be claimed by darkness, shaded and giving an eerie and grave meaning to his words - a heavier, more grim meaning. 

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, nor did I want to. 

“I don’t-”

“You shout her name in your sleep. I _know_ you know.” When I met his eyes again, something about his face had looked… different. He looked… _tired._ His face appeared to be pulled by a sort of grief, worn and crumbling at the seams. And for a moment, I could finally see it - his reddened eyes, stained with every tear he had cried. And judging by the break in his voice and the glassiness in his eyes, I could tell he was going to do it again. 

Then, just like that, it was gone - as if never there at all. His eyebrows rose in astonishment and the look of exhaustion had left him.

“Marco, your… your face.” He remarked, examining me. With that, the tension broke and a new, lighter mood prevailed, though a certain uneasiness remained. 

“What? What about it?” I asked, a sheet of anger falling away, suddenly replaced by a genuine curiosity. Instinctively, I brought a hand up to touch my face, unaware of my transformation. 


	4. What It Takes to Be a Demon

“Woah...” I exclaimed, lightly touching the black markings across my cheeks as I examined them intently in the mirror. They began out wide and eventually slimmed down to a sharp point. They became more and more noticeable with each second they magically matured, fading away from my distinguishing tan skin tone to a black pigment.

That's when I noticed similar markings on the back of my hand. They were fading into view just as swiftly as the streaks gashing across my face and they seemed to slither up my forearms and spiral from black, bold, intricate lines going beyond my T-shirt. 

So _this_ was what it was like to finally become a _true_ demon. 

It was kind of funny though. I always thought my brother, Tom would be the first to earn his demonic adolescent markings. Besides, he always had been one step ahead of me our whole lives - first born, first to discover his powers, and first to be called _'Master'_ Tom by the servants.

But as for me, I was always somehow staggering behind, always caught behind Tom, like a persistent, lingering shadow. 

Ever since we were young, Tom was the bigger brother I looked up to. It was his own milestones and constant success that acquired our father’s attention and praise. I, being the younger brother, admired Tom for it - I strived to impress our father too. 

Unfortunately, I never could. Nothing I ever did was worthy of the same greatness, I assumed. _Tom_ was our father’s successor, not me.

Yet, because of his frequent absence to his kingdom duties and his attention towards Tom, I fell through the cracks, becoming somehow nonexistent.

Not that I minded anyhow. I found it easier to be forgotten. No one bothered me, nor did they care to - not even the servants. I tended to myself and only worried about myself. Laying low and going about my own concerns. It was easier to quit idolizing my brother and trying to please our displeasing father. 

But now… now, something sprung up inside of me, a sort of bubbling joy. Something warm rose in my chest.

_Finally,_ a fighting chance for me - to surpass Tom and seize our father’s favor.

Not to mention, a jab back at Tom for calling me not a _“true”_ demon.

_Who’s laughing now, Tom?_

At the thought of this, I turned around to behold of the look on his face, just to amuse myself with his grief. 

Tom sat at the table yet he had fallen deathly silent. Something had him on edge. I could tell by the way his leg fidgeted under the table and he bit down on his thumb in deep thought. His three eyes remained restless and bulging, almost as if he had been trying to solve some big, abstract puzzle - or maybe even a lengthy equation in his head. It was almost as if I could see the complex gears rotating inside.

Ever since he had spotted my markings, he hadn't taken his wavering eyes off of me. His ears drooped in distress, maybe even an expression of flounder. 

Every so often, his eyes would dart from one corner of the room, to another, only to fall back on me, as if I was the core of his anxieties. 

He shook his head defiantly and I heard him curse from under the fists that barricaded over his mouth. 

“But… _how?”_ Something of this remark bewildered me. It wasn’t exactly the response I was expecting. 

“What?” I scoffed. “What do you mean _how?”_

I witnessed him noticeably retract by this, his shoulders slumped and he seemingly shrunk. The remnants of his confidence had trickled out, leaving him defeated. When he didn’t answer, that is when I concluded my triumph against him. 

Usually, as stubborn-headed as I know him as, my brother would _never_ back down from a challenge, nor would he ever accept defeat. No matter where the criticism or disapproval came from - may it be our father or a complete stranger - my brother _always_ had to prove otherwise.

An insecurity? Yes. 

A relentless need to prevail and assert his demonic divinity to forces who dare defy him? 

Well… considering I know from past experiences with Tom’s meltdowns, yes. 

He _always_ held the upper hand - always in control of everything. It didn’t take a real observant eye to see where he got it from either. Our father - the King of the Underworld was definitely no exception. 

But _now,_ however, Tom did not fight back. This time… he only appeared to acknowledge and take his defeat. 

Something of the situation had taken a jab at his ego and I couldn’t help but laugh at how pathetically bad my demonic markings could bring him so low, to a state of severe distress.

“Oh, c’mon.” I persisted, despite his discouraging silence. “You can’t actually be upset over this! I mean, just because _I_ got my demon marks before you. Maybe if you weren’t so-”

“Y’know, Marco. It must be nice!” Tom rose up now, a newfound courage to attack, to interject with a comeback prepared. His fist pounded the table _hard,_ causing the vase centerpiece to teeter momentarily before retrieving its balance. The single, sudden uproar and thunderous commotion was enough to alarm me. 

His beetroot eyes - all three of them - had altered. His irises and scleras had inverted, swapping pigments. 

And when he spoke, his voice had become a lower octave, a more demonic note. 

Then, all at once, his words came tumbling out.

“It _really_ must be nice to forget everything and be so ignorant and isolated from the world around you that you… that you just…” The words broke before he could speak them, yet he remained resilient and swallowed the bolder down to retry. “You don’t get it. I-it’s only getting worse - _You’re_ getting worse and…” Another pause for recovery. He bowed his head in a sort of shame and held it in his hands, his elbows resting on the table and supporting his head. 

“You wouldn’t… get it.” His voice shattered, drained of the vigorous energy from his unexpected eruption. 

My wings tensed behind me, my feet anchoring me to the ground, stationing me in a still, unmoving position. I couldn’t wrap my head around the whirlwind, nor could I even digest his words. 

“I tried…” Tom’s voice came out muffled against his arms from which he hid his face in. “I tried to reverse it. I tried to give you… your memories back but… it just gave you the nightmares. I just…” A lengthy pause for an uneasy breath. “I just thought you could remember.”

The silence settled at last, yet it wasn't the definite, resolved kind. It was solid and stiff and unbearable. 

"Remember what?" My voice was just a mumble, dribbled down to nothing but a small, feeble sound. 

I waited for him to answer yet he only shook his head and stood, exiting the kitchen without another objection. 

… 

Even as I heard the shuffling from Tom’s side of the bedroom dwindle to a heavy sleep, the tension still lingered just as heavy as it had been from back in the kitchen. 

At least _one_ of us was able to sleep at all. 

But as much as I wanted to wrap myself up in my wings and do the same, I couldn’t. The nightmares were no help, not to mention the endless quarrels and arguments with Tom. 

I rubbed at my stinging, tired eyes and turned onto my back to stare at the void of the dark, rock ceiling above me. My head ached and my back stung like an angry inflammation, a symptom of my infection. The droning silence and the molten core’s heat was too much.

Still, I didn’t dare fall asleep… not yet.

I must've stared at the ceiling for a whole hour, desperately waiting. Finally, I heard my brother's breathing steady. 

Then, I left.


	5. Earth

The cool, crisp feel of the night air touched my skin, making me feel reborn. I inhaled heavily, drinking up the fresh air. And when I looked upwards, there was the sky, trillions of tiny sparkling stars gazing down.

I could get used to the surface. 

What a shame it was, living underground, missing the scenery. 

Even as kids, Tom and I never went out as much. I don't know what was keeping us from getting out.

My lazy wings unfurled slowly, arching towards the sky, embracing the chilling breeze from the height of the rooftop. It was a nice change from the suffocating heat of the Underworld. Above all, it was soothing against my sore, throbbing ache of my infection. 

I found safety and shelter while lurking in the shadows of the rooftop, away and out of sight from the attention of the mortals. From this height, no busying eyes would bother my secret observation of the city. 

Not far from where I was, I could overhear the commotion - talking, laughing, beeping, honking, and sounds of traffic. 

The constant animated, glimmering lights were practically enough to render me blind and the bustling noise seemed to all blend together into one indefinite sound. 

I tilted my face upwards, towards the brilliant light of the full moon, darkened clouds surrounding it, almost strangling it. 

I decided to take a look for myself, testing out my weary wings. I hadn't used them in a  _ long  _ time. I flapped and fluttered, building up momentum. I tested the air current against my wings, using it to my advantage. Getting off the ground was more difficult than I recalled it to be, yet once my wings regained their former glory and strength to carry me, I was ascending. 

My feet hung just slightly so, levitating just above the rooftop. 

For a moment, however, something grew hot and heavy from behind, a dizzying pain overcame me. I sputtered and faltered, stumbling down on my hands and knees. 

_ Damn this infection! _

It stung like a scorching blade. It shrieked like a sinner in the deepest pits of the Underworld. 

I knelt there, head bowed and wings curling from the sudden strain and exertion. I swore under my heaving breath. 

_ “C’mon!”  _ I hissed through gritted teeth, trying to hold back a wail of frustration and pain.

I rose up slowly, steadying myself against the disorienting, relentless torment. Besides, I  _ had  _ to get up. I couldn’t let Tom be right about me - I couldn’t let our  _ father  _ be right about me. 

I was a  _ demon!  _

Pain was a weakness and the level of endurance a demon could undergo was all that more praiseworthy. And  _ true  _ demons didn’t fear anything - not even the most excruciating of torture. In fact, some even found pain to be nothing more than just entertainment, a welcoming invitation of exhilaration and pleasure. And those who embraced it as such are the most feared of all the Underworld - the ones who had conquered mortality and had nothing left to fear. Only then did a demon gain respect and triumph through the rest. 

I knew I couldn’t shrivel under the pain. I didn’t dare let it win. No matter how much it  _ burned.  _ No matter how much it blazed down my back like a lightning bolt. 

Slowly, I tried my wings once more. The pain seized again but I remained persistent. With a forceful boost of my foot, I lunged myself upwards, into the air. Into the darkness of the sky, where I could finally be free. 

Higher and higher, seeking to graze the stars, escaping the heavy chains that were bound to me. 

High and higher, and the more I could taste the thinning air and the more I could feel the icy breeze contrast with my blistering infection. 

Finally slicing through the clouds, moisture dampening against my skin, sending a rush of adrenaline through me instantaneously. A euphoric breath, a sudden pause. It was almost as if the whole world itself had just simply fallen away and I was left. I hung there and it was almost as if everything had slowed, my chest towards the open, constant sky.

Forget the Underworld. 

_ This  _ was what it was like to be alive. To feel the goosebumps prick me and for my hair to blow swiftly in my face. When I had reached the clouds, my wings were in control, not even the wind being able to sway me at this height. 

I howled throughout the endless abyss, hearing my voice echo off into the dark of the night. 

_ This _ was what it was like to be truly free. No boundaries. No limits. I could go anywhere I wanted to go. I could do anything I wanted to do.

Damn, how liberating it was - to have the whole sky to myself. It was almost too good to be true. Besides, all this open sky for the taking and no other force in sight to challenge me. 

I was free and the weighing restraints of the Underworld couldn't reach me here - not in the clouds.

I lounged there in the clouds and as time began to return, I was slowly descending back down, plunging headfirst back to the ground. On my descent, feet above my head, I could’ve missed it. Yet, something of the unnatural light made my head turn and my eyes fall into a submissive trance. 

A familiar, captivating red - one that I knew all too well. 

And when I lifted my head to gaze in a dumbfound wonder, I found the full moon to be swallowed in it. 

The Blood Moon. 

_ Strange… _

The Blood Moon Ball was about a year ago, yet here it was. Not only that, it wasn’t supposed to reappear for another 666 years. 

That is, unless… 

If it was reminding its chosen ones of its presence. 

But, way up in the clouds, where the night sky seemed smothered by the gloom and mist, there was no one who would ever know of its presence…

Except for me.

_ But I wasn’t bonded with anyone. _

_ Was I? _

_ No, I definitely would’ve remembered that. _

_ Then… Why did it reveal itself to me?  _

And in the blink of an eye, the Blood Moon vanished, leaving me more bewildered than when it had appeared. Typical. The Blood Moon, as mystical and mesmerizing as it was, was also notorious for its trickery and unclear motivations. And despite it all, we demons worshipped it, even dedicating a royal ball in its name. 

It didn’t matter, however, because at that moment, I was plummeting from the sky. 

Free falling towards the city below, towards the streets. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... hahaha. 666. I get it. But it's not funny, y'all nerds. Very mature. 
> 
> No but seriously, I didn't plan that. I was just doing the math in my head and totally didn't mean for that to happen. 
> 
> Canon SVTFOE writers all in the screenwriting room: "Hahaha, yeah, 666 is funny but, like, 667 years, y'know?"
> 
> Daron: "Yes, let's do it!"
> 
> So, I probably should've explained this earlier but ah well. I'm doing it now.
> 
> This story is kind of an alternate reality to the Mr. Candle Cares episode. I'm guessing there was a reasonable year gap from the Blood Moon Ball episode to the Mr. Candle Cares episode in the SVTFOE timeline, so following up to Marco's timeline in this story, the math makes sense. 
> 
> Man, this chapter took TOO long to write and I don't even know why but it's finally done so yay!! 
> 
> Ugh, why must writing be so exhausting yet so beautiful and self-rewarding?! And yes, I know this is just fan fiction here but still, coming across an actually GOOD fan fic and getting excited over it is so AMAZING! There are a lot of fan fics out there nowadays but to find a hidden gem fan fiction is literally the BEST feeling!! 
> 
> Writers come and go but the ones who are serious about writing and can actually incorporate characters and a storyline and evoke emotions through words are writers that should be feared. As a writer who has been writing ever since I could lift a pencil, I can hereby declare that writing is definitely not easy and takes YEARS of practice to write, let alone find your own voice and style of writing. 
> 
> I have been writing Painted Lies and Demon Eyes now for about 4-5 years and just now began tearing apart the pages recklessly to rewrite it completely. And can I just say, oh man, I am SO glad I did! I can now actually say with full confidence now that I am proud of what I wrote! 
> 
> Yeah, these beginning chapters can be a little slow and confusing at first, but trust me, you will begin to understand more as Marco learns more. 
> 
> And as for Star... well... she'll be around shortly... ;) 
> 
> PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT AND KUDOS IF YOU ENJOY MY UPDATES AND I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER!!


	6. Vanquish

My wings opened. 

I caught an updraught and was thrust back. 

My back erupted in a furious burn. I howled, out of instinct, before biting back the pain. My feet staggered, finding firm ground and my wings gave out. Blinded and useless senses, struck dumb from an overwhelming pain. 

_Don’t think about it!_

_Don’t think about it!_

_You’re a demon, for devil’s sake!_

Some Prince of the Underworld, I was - hunched over in agony. 

_If only Dad could see me. He’d be really proud._ I presumed. _Writhing in pain on the city streets._

_Wait._

_I was on the streets!_

I froze, turned to stone from the thought. I was vulnerable, I discovered to my dismay, helplessly abandoning the security of the skies. 

Not that I cared for the lives of the ignorant humans, but arousing attention to myself at all was too risky. 

The two worlds were not meant to mingle, let alone acknowledge the other at all. Besides, the demons chose the underground. The mortals chose the surface and as for the angels…

Well, they claimed everything above. 

_Those arrogant bastards._

Though, despite their angelic propaganda, many angels fell to the Underworld daily. For this, I couldn't help but question their courtly rulings and authority. 

So easy to fall, yet so hard to ascend. Funny. 

Yet, in that moment, I could _feel_ the mortals' eyes. They were watching. And even if I chose now to fly away and hide, they still would know of my existence. Besides, I was already compromised and now my wings were useless to me. 

Then, all at once - tires screeching, headlights glaring, a horn blaring. 

A giant mass heading towards me, trying for a blistering stop - a car. 

I reached out, a desperate attempt to lessen the blow. I set my feet, planted them firmly, bracing for impact. 

The power was so staggering, I skid with it. Something of the two opposing forces colliding had resonated, the unmistakable sound of a thunderous crash. Metal clanging and the piercing whistling of tires on pavement. 

Then, a warped sort of noise, a low hum rippling reverberating throughout the streets. 

And when I gathered the courage to look, I found the source of the sound to be from my own lethal grip of the car’s hood, nails dug sharp, puncturing through and into the metal. A brilliant, green ring of light rippled outwards into the air. My hands had ignited, enveloped in vibrant, green, flickering flames. 

The summoning of my power was completely unintentional and involuntary, yet in the intensity of the moment, I had somehow triggered them in a desperate need to hinder the car’s speed. 

I stood there, frozen in place for a few seconds, trying to catch my breath. 

How did I not feel a thing? Not a single pain prevailed, nor was there a single evident scratch on me. 

To this, something grew inside, a resilient, glowing sensation flourishing in my chest. It was so hysterically impossible, a laugh crept from my throat, dark and heavy. It grew in strength and volume and then, I was howling out in a grand fit of manic laughter. 

My nails dug further into the metal, closing in on a more solid grasp. And despite the resistance of its tires, the car began to move. Slowly, yet with building momentum, it moved to my will. With all the demonic power vested in my being, I _swung._

The car went soaring, flipping across the intersection. It tumbled recklessly, toppling onto other cars.

Debris of car parts flew around and blaring alarms erupted. The car I had thrown was now sitting on top of others, upside down so that the tires spun helplessly. 

And the sound of the collision was grand - glass crashing, metal crunching, screams piercing.

Other vehicles swerved to avoid the destruction while others, blocked in the heavy traffic of the city, had nowhere else to retreat. 

The most thrilling was the sounds of the mortals screaming. I definitely had their attention now. 

Despite the unspoken rule of staying away from the humans, there was definitely no rule _against_ initiating mayhem in their streets. 

_And damn, it felt so good!_

Humans, fearing me, stirring up an immense, frenzied panic. 

And suddenly, awareness overcame me - an awareness of how much power I _truly_ possessed. 

My _own_ hands, my _own_ strength, my very _power._

And it sat in the palms of my hands - twitching and flickering and tingling. Something of it felt… _different._

A _good_ different. 

I could actually _feel_ its energy, surging through my veins, outlining me like a visible green aura. It was a prickliness at my fingertips, an enchantment among my being.

So much power, manifesting itself, engulfing me. 

So much power I was unaware I even had - proof I had only been underestimating myself my whole life. 

Even as I clenched my fist, curled my fingers into my palm, the fire remained, relentless. Simultaneously, something had happened. 

Aside from the uproar of chaos I had just caused, I noticed a subtle quaking of the ground below me. It was a rumbling tremor, cars shifting, trembling slightly off the pavement. Every car, every vehicle - all under a greater control, yielding to flames of a widespread fire. 

Not only that, _I_ seemed to be the one behind the manipulation.

And when I decided to test my theory, gradually raising the palm of my hand up, the more gravity seemed to obey. Sounds of clanking and clattering seemed to emit from them - sounds of the cars' interior metal shuddering, rattling, seizing up.

They began shaking more violently this time, easing more and more off the ground. In the midst of all the vehicles surrounding me, I witnessed them all become weightless. 

Cars lifted off into disarray, a disorderly state of confusion, going rogue and directionless. They levitated off and about, bumping clumsily into each other, slowly colliding and then rebounding off another. 

It was as if gravity had hitched. Time froze. 

They hung in the air like marionettes. 

And I was the puppeteer. 

The sight of it all made a smile creep onto my face, a devilish, sinister, dangerous grin. A single expression of pure malice. 

And in one clear, swift motion, my fist, consumed in the fire of my own magic, fell. 

The result was chaotic. 

A glorious crash that seemed to resound throughout the city from the mass destruction. 

What once had been a tremor had now physically shook the surface, an alarming quake that could be felt from below, sending vibrations to the Underworld. 

Cars littered the intersections, either laying on top of other cars, completely turned over, or set ablaze by emerald flames. Smoke rose to the sky, filling the air. 

Screams took upon the streets once again, amplified among a larger scale now. People scattered, running like petrified ants. 

My containable laugh had crept up my throat at the sound, the evident fear I evoked. 

All this time - my whole life, I had simply just been wasting it all away. 

I'd been so careful all this time. I'd been so careful to hide what was really true of myself. Wasting my whole life trying to avoid the natural demon urges, the biological, unstoppable craving to shed blood. 

How funny it all was. 

How painfully hard it was to push it all down to thrive for good.

How hilariously easy it was to let it all go to be who I _truly_ was all along. 

It was all so simple, the answer right in front of me the whole time - being feared was so much easier than striving to be someone worth being admired or loved. 

I was _born_ for this. I was _meant_ to be feared, to feed off of it and to wield it. 

How utterly hysterical I had blinded myself all this time - and how well I thrived on the darkness.

The marvel of my work was short-lived, however, when I was seized. A sudden grip to my throat and I went plunging backwards and taking a blow. 

The impact was violent enough to leave my indent in its architecture. My head struck brick and for a fleeting split-second, was met by a sudden flash of white pain in the back of my eyes, whiplashing against a wall. 

All at once, the pain came back to me. It took effort to open my eyes at first, yet when I did to behold of my attacker, I found my brother looming over me. 

Tom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took SO. LONG. 
> 
> But it's finally done so yay! 
> 
> Not only was this chapter hard to write, but the action scenes made it completely and utterly painful so yeah :)
> 
> BUT OH MAN DID THAT PAY OFF I AM SO HAPPY WITH THIS CHAPTER AND I HOPE Y'ALL ENJOYED IT!!


	7. Tampered Mind

Once my dizzying vision subsided, I was finally able to make out Tom's solid form clearly, including the menacing look on his face. It was contorted into an expression of hideous fury - wrinkled nose, snarling, jagged teeth bared, beetroot eyes inverted. Even his aura of flames illuminated around him, contrasting against my own - green versus orange - two complimentary colors colliding.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice was sharp and vicious, taken over by a low, demonic octave. If it wasn't for the strength and booming volume in his voice, I would've not been able to hear him over the ringing in my ears. 

Honestly, his anger was not what I was expecting. I'd thought he'd at least be somewhat impressed. Despite it, I couldn't help but respond to his chaotic introduction with wittiness. 

"It's just like the good, old times, right, brother?" 

Something of his madness felt too surreal, too hysterical to be true - and over a bunch of pathetic mortal lives, nonetheless. 

They were the same lives that we had traumatized as kids, sneaking out to the surface to cause mischief. Even then, Tom envied how intimidating I appeared and how easily the humans ran from the sight of me. I presumed it was because of my wings, considering that humans didn’t have wings, nor had they ever been in the presence of a humanoid _with_ wings. 

Something I said had only provoked Tom more than ever because his grasp on the collar of my shirt tightened, forceful enough to tear through it.

“I am _not_ your brother, Marco!" He bellowed and, if it were possible, I witnessed his anger intensify, boiling over. The flames around him flared in response. 

I forced a laugh and the effort made my head prick with a sharpened pain. "Am I supposed to believe you?"

This time, Tom didn't fire back right away. I watched him survey me up and down, studying me. His death grip on my shirt loosened, slightly yet enough for it to be noticeable. He shut his eyes, shook his head, then retried. When he opened his eyes again, they were their natural hues. 

The anger on his face fell away and the expression became more… baffled. Curious.

"How… how are you doing that?" His voice was composed and I met his stare, at my smoldering green outline. I flexed my fist and my fire diminished at last. 

"What do you mean?" I asked. It was a serious question yet, for some reason, Tom couldn't answer. He was struck dumb with awe.

Then, when he found his words again, he spoke.

"The - the fire! _How did you do that?"_ He fumed, tugging more vigorously at my shirt, as if aggression would shake the answer right out of me. 

It was an odd thing for Tom to be questioning. Afterall, he knew I had powers, considering I've had them for practically my whole life now. If anyone should know that, it would be my own… 

_Brother…_

Unless, Tom was telling the truth - that I _really_ wasn't his brother. 

Still, even if it _were_ true, it was still too ridiculous to accept. 

I would've responded with another witty comment if it weren't for the fact that if I was _truly_ being honest… 

"I-I don't know."

Silence hung over us for a long, hard moment. I saw his jaw noticeably clench, a hurried second of contemplation. 

His eyebrows rose, his mouth hung open, his hyperactive eyes scanning me through, searching for a fault in my act. When he found I was just as flustered as I was, he eased off me, backing away completely now. 

Finally free from his hold, I had to stagger out of the rubble of brick. The same white pain from my impact came back to overwhelm me once more, making me wince.

A commotion emerged in the distance - wailing sirens, various flashing lights, more cars. I saw Tom's deer-like ears perk up at the sound, alert and shifting behind him, towards the streets. 

The law enforcement - _how cute._

A sudden urgency struck Tom immediately. He looked out to the streets and when he turned back, his stare dropped to the ground, darting back and forth as if to think frantically. 

_"Shit."_ He hissed through his tight teeth. 

He reached out and yanked me closer, causing me to stumble and I almost fell from the demanding and forceful action. Every move I made was disorienting and afflicting. 

"We need to go - _now."_

With that, he raised his hand towards the sky. A ring of fire arose around our feet and when it ascended, it confined us in its spiral, a blazing vortex. 

But, just as quick as it had come, it had left, swallowed up by the air, sweeping over us like a current.

The ground reappeared once again, yet we were no longer on the streets. Tom's portal of fire had transported us home. 

I couldn't even recall the teleportation back. All I knew was landing by his feet. I hit the ground, my equilibrium faltering. The white pain came to invade behind my skull again and I groaned from the overwhelming light-headedness, trying to overcome my whirling vision. 

I was oddly aware of the metallic taste in my mouth. Iron - blood. I must've bit down too hard on my tongue during Tom's takedown. 

I took note of all symptoms, every ache and throb and twinge and pang. 

A strong force hauled me upwards, hoisting me onto my feet. 

A wall struck me from behind and my arms surrendered to the chains, cold, thick cuffs restraining me. The cementing weight of control released and when I dared to look up through the haze of heavy pressure in my head, I found Tom with his hands out, telekinetic gestures towards me, the one manipulating and hindering my movement. 

The pain of my wings and my infection prevailed, relentless and excruciating more than ever. I tensed, allowing myself to give in to the swarming, intense sting. 

The realization was gradual and when I was finally able to make sense of my situation - that I was chained up and imprisoned - I wrestled against the cuffs that suspended my arms above me. 

Unfortunately for me, however, my feeble attempts were in vain. My strength had diminished and my fight probably seemed more pitiful and trying than impressive and threatening. 

"What… what are you doing?" I mumbled, a disoriented daze taking over, still fumbling hopelessly against the chains. 

When my fighting became less and less, Tom approached me closer. 

I looked up to meet his face and almost immediately, I had to look away. Despite the blurriness and filminess of my eyes, I could still see the obvious expression on his face - a glare sharp enough to impale me. 

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw his expression change. Slowly, I turned back to him, to see if it was true, and found that something had softened. The fury had melted away and a new emotion reigned supreme on his face. 

It was a deep, long stare, as if he was simply looking through me. It was as if his eyes were locked, intensely focused on the wall behind me, just like he had been doing for the past weeks. 

An unsteady breath in and out. Then, his face fell to the ground. 

“I don't want to fight with you." He began, rubbing his arm, biting his bottom lip. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen either.” He surrendered his hands out in front of him, as if to try to reason with me. 

“What are you talking about?” My voice was rough and scratchy, probably from yelling. 

“You really don't remember, do you?” He started again, the expression of sorrow on his face when I looked up.

“No. Just tell me.” I mumbled. 

_Seriously, what was he hiding? Why couldn't he just tell me?_

Tom took in a deep breath again, as if to prepare himself. I waited. He closed his eyes. Then, he spoke. It was the truth - I could tell by how every word was handled with caution and the difficulty it took for him to speak. 

“Because of me, I made you do something that… _hurt someone…_ someone who turns out was _really_ important to you.” He rubbed the back of his neck, defeated. 

Tom must have read my blank, confused face when he opened his eyes because he sighed, a failed last attempt to make me understand. “The memories you have of us aren't real. They're fake. You're…" He choked, restarted, his fists clenching by his sides. "You're not my brother. I-I’m sorry.”

I gazed down at the motion of his hands, trembling noticeably. Tom had never struck me as vulnerable or easily daunted but now it was unveiled, leaking through. The uneasiness of his voice, the rattling breath leaving his chest - something of his heavy confession frightened me. Even the way he rubbed the back of his neck was troubling.

A hollow pit plummeted in my stomach. 

He was telling the truth. And though I knew this, I couldn’t bring myself to accept it. It made a knot tighten, a churning sensation weighing in my gut. 

Still, with the truth, something of the reasonings behind it all remained hazy. I searched desperately for the faults and cracks in his explanation, for some sort of flaw to call him out for, yet the slicing pain in my head made it hard to concentrate. 

“No, I-I don't understand…” I muttered. “Why…?”

“You asked me to. You said you... didn't want to remember what happened. So I erased your mind. I gave you new memories to replace the old ones as a way to... keep you from asking any questions. I don't know. It's… complicated.” His stare wavered, eyes drifting to the floor. 

“Wh-how?” I shook my head, trying to still make sense of everything but my skull felt like it was going to explode. “Why?”

“If I can't make you understand, then maybe… maybe she can.” He said, lifting his face again. 

_“She?”_ I repeated. 

“I-I’ll be right back.” He concluded, leaving me alone in the Great Hall, trapped there, chained up like some animal in captivity. Like a maniacal demon worthy of confinement. 

“Wait,” My plea was only a squeak, a helpless sound. My chains jangled as I shifted in place, with every movement I made. “What do you mean _she?_ Tom, what’s going on? Tom, _please!_ Let me go!” The more I wrestled my chains, the more they chimed and clattered. 

Tom did not respond. His back was already towards me and his figure shrunk into the faint darkness of the hall. I wanted to scream out in frustration, but my body was too exhausted to even utter a single noise. All I wanted now was to sleep. 


	8. Reunion

Footsteps echoed throughout the halls, telling me he had come back. He had been gone for so long, I got impatient. I anxiously awaited his dreadful return.

Tom had been gone so long that several of the hallway lanterns had burned out. Minute by agonizing minute, they went out until there were only three left. There were moments when I felt myself drifting distantly away, wrestling the exhaustion. 

Each time I'd rest my eyes for a moment, I'd awake with a physical jolting panic, not even remembering drifting off to sleep. In my constant fading of consciousness, I could feel it all. 

Every ache, every blood curdling pain, every crevice of my body _hurting._

My sore and weak knees, unable to hold a kneeling position. 

My arms, losing circulation from being strung up above me. 

My wings, a sort of heavy, searing burden weighing me down. 

My head, pounding like an ungodly drum. 

I was so, very aware of it all. 

The worst of it all was the fight from the relentless grip of permanent sleep. Deep down, it was the silent yet grim realization of death, something so utterly beyond my desperate control. My vision was so overcome with a dizzy blur, if it wasn't for the light of the lanterns being blocked by darker colors, I would have never guessed Tom was standing there in front of me. 

I looked up, a sudden lightheaded feeling invading my skull. I don't know if he saw it but the feeling ‘horrible’ was an understatement in my case.

"Marco," His voice rang in sharp and I flinched. The sound made my ears pierce and ache and my head pound. 

_Don’t let him see you like this. Fight the pain._

"Came to finish me off or what?" I spat out, my voice cracking, hoarse from disuse. 

Something about his appearance was different. Blinking through the blurs of my failing eyesight and dizzying migraine, I discovered something different about him, his clean-cut formal wear. He was wearing a black and white tuxedo with matching dress shoes.

Though I was experiencing every pain imaginable, I couldn't help but smirk at this. 

"I see you dressed nice for the occasion." I sneered, a sort of sarcasm in my tone of voice. 

_Seriously, if he thought he was trying to intimidate or impress me, he was wrong._

_If anything, he only proved himself nothing more than a narcissistic, insufferable bastard._

My patience for Tom had already become well past dry and whatever he was orchestrating, I was not in the mood for. 

"I know you're mad, Marco, but you have to listen to me. I'm not here to torture you. Just - _trust me."_ He said. The expression on his face was composed and he surrendered his hands out in front of him in a genuine, modest manner.

If my hands were free, I would applaud him for his surprisingly credible performance. It was almost enough for me to fall for it. 

I chuckled softly, dropping my head again, unable to withstand the pressure building in my head. However, when I spoke, my tone was devoid of any humor or sarcasm. It was, quite literally, very somber and sincere. 

"Why should I? I don't even know who you are anymore."

"Yes, but you know who _she_ is." He muttered. Just then, he gestured his head, a subtle nod of permission, almost as if to usher someone over.

A dainty figure had obstructed my view of the lanterns' lights, another pair of feet joining alongside Tom's. 

It was a girl. 

She walked with light, hesitant steps, the soles of her flats pattering against the dirt ground. Gentle eyes. Symmetrical hearts on her cheeks. Heavenly golden hair hung over her shoulders and down to her waist. A bright ring hovering above her head, swaying and bobbing with her every distinctive movement - a halo. She carried the brightest pair of white-feathered wings behind her. And when she neared closer, she left a slight trail of feathers shed, discarded in her wake. 

She was no longer just a dream - she was real.

_ But how? _

_ How could it be possible? How could a vision from a dream be more than fictional - more than just in my head? _

"Marco? I-Is that you?" She finally dared to mutter. Her voice rang through my ears like the sound of a softly played, high-pitched harp. It was the perfect remedy to a deep, dark disease.

It was a funny, glowing feeling in my chest. It was like reaching out and catching sunlight in my hand. I desperately wished to cradle it delicately into me to embrace the comfort of its warmth.

_ Aw, hell. What was this feeling? _

_ No. _

_ No! _

I couldn’t let her distract me. There had to be some sort of trickery about her that I was simply overlooking - and in my discombobulated state, that was a fairly high chance. Besides, she was an angel afterall. She had to be up to something. Angels don’t usually descend to the Underworld unless they seek their own doom. 

Her blurred hand came out in front of my face as if she wanted to touch me, yet she hesitated with a great struggle. Her stare remained gentle and soft, yet simultaneously floundered. She tilted her head and squinted, almost as if to try to understand me.

“What - I don’t…” My voice came out forced. I could barely even recognize the sound. I stopped to swallow and retry. “Who are you? H-how do you know my name?”

Suddenly, her reach ceased. Her approach had halted completely and abruptly, fingers curling back faintly. 

"Marco?" Her voice was a pained whisper. "I-It's me... Star. Don't you remember?"

_Star._

_Star..._

_Dammit! Why did that name sound so familiar? I've never heard it before in my life..._

_Or had I?_

She turned to Tom now, sharing an evident look of worry plastered on their faces. 

Her wings and shoulders tensed, lifted, and when she released a sigh from the depths of her lungs, it was harsh and unsteady. Her head bowed into her hands to hide her face, which was being conquered by a sort of overwhelming emotion I couldn’t pinpoint, considering my own haze of confusion and weary consciousness. 

Unable to sustain herself, she plummeted to the floor. Tom fell with her to catch her. She let out a hiccup of a sob, an unsettling sound that seemed to echo throughout the Great Hall. Her feathered wings sunk by her sides and her long, tangled mess of hair hung down, surrounding her face, only to pool out onto the ground. Tom’s hand rested gingerly upon her shoulder, a vain attempt at comfort.

“I can’t… I’m sorry…” Her voice was a quivering whisper in the captivity of her hands. 

It didn't make any sense. And the more I tried to understand it, the more my strength waned and my migraine howled. 

…

When I awoke, it was to the obtrusive, clamoring sound of my chains, meddling fingers prying at the cuffs around my wrist. 

I hadn’t even been aware that I had fainted yet again until a jolt struck through me, alerting me to wake up. Staying conscious was becoming a real burden. My heavy eyelids threatened to anchor. If it wasn’t for the fluttering of my eyes, I don’t think I would’ve appeared responsive to the external world. My arms were growing cold, losing feeling. My head hung down into my chest but I was still able to tell Star was standing beside me. There was an occasional sniffle and sob in between her struggle to free me from my shackles. 

Her invasive presence was startling to me for some reason. She was so close to me that I was momentarily frozen still. The way Star's unmoving stare was fixated on her working hands on my cuffs - the way she came to my aid. It was done seemingly without a second thought and it was staggering to me.

Of course, it made sense, in a way. Something of her angelic abilities, a sort of sixth sense - an awareness to the pain radiating off of me. Though, I couldn't say I blamed her for it. She couldn't help that she was an angel, a natural healer of the hurt. It was her duty, afterall. 

_She,_ an angel, deemed it safe to approach _me,_ a demon. 

Yet, the declined space between us was not strange to her - in fact, it was almost familiar, almost as if she had known me her whole life. 

Still, there was a sort of lingering tension in the air. I could tell by how stiff she appeared, how uncomfortable she was. She didn't dare to talk or even glance in my direction. It was difficult for me to tell. I couldn't quite establish the status of our relationship. 

_Strangers? Former friends? Mutual enemies?_

_Maybe, possibly, something more?_

A voice protested behind her - Tom. 

“No! Star, don’t.” His voice reflected urgency and caution. 

“Tom, he’s in pain. We can’t just leave him like this.” She said, temporarily delaying her progress. 

“Yeah, well, he should’ve thought about that before he terrorized a city a few hours ago. If he really believes he is a demon, then he can suffer like one.” I could make out the underlining bitterness in his tone. 

“He has a concussion. He’s barely even conscious.” My chains jingled as she persisted. After a long, enduring fight, the joyous sound of a clang - the clasp on one of my cuffs finally broken. Through it all, Tom didn’t object again and I was secretly grateful for it, considering how bone-tired I was. 

After that, the other clasp had been pried from my other wrist, coming off just as timely. 

I sunk to the ground, unable to bear my own weight. And if it weren’t for a pair of hefty arms to catch and break my fall, I would’ve collapsed completely, like dead weight. Every thundering ache and pain only seemed to sharpen and torment me more. 

It was pathetic - how much I was hurting. A demon shouldn’t succumb to their pain, nor could demons have the ability to heal like an angel could. Instead, the alternative was to cope.

Succumbing to pain was just as pitiful as begging for mercy or even asking for aid from another - but in that moment, secretly, I was scared. 

Scared to succumb.

Scared to die.

And despite the fact that I had surrendered myself to her - a member of the clashing kingdom from above, an angel, an enemy to every demon in the Underworld. Even the comical thought of Tom going to the Above to find and pluck an angel and bring her back to the Underworld was laughable.

Yet, despite being surprised and vaguely impressed by his efforts, I was so, very confused. Something of the fact that she had seemingly come willingly to see me was questionable. Besides, why would an angel want to acquaint themselves with a demon? 

Even Tom, who had gone to retrieve her, had been warning enough. Still, whether it was trickery or she was being held against her will by Tom, something was off.

Though I still couldn't manage to bring myself to get up. Something of all my pain was too crippling and though my mind was willing, my body was too weak. I could practically feel myself blacking out again. 

Soft and delicate fingers came to touch the frame of my face and when I braved myself to open my weighing eyelids, I found her hovering over me. Her mouth was moving but my ears were ringing once more, hindering the noise. 

I wasn’t sure if it was just the delirium from my concussions or visions brought on from her healing touch, but something happened, too quickly and overwhelmingly for me to control. I began recalling memories that were not my own.

I began remembering that night - a night that didn’t happen.


	9. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy. Editing and rewriting a whole three chapters and condensing them into one whole, single chapter - what fun! 
> 
> Hey y'all! I know it's been a while since I last updated this story, but there is a LOT going on now that Star has made a reappearance! A lot for Marco to unpack and try to figure out on his own as well as Star. 
> 
> This fic is going to be a lot of touchy-feely stuff and sensitive trauma that needs to be handled delica- ah, fuck it. They're all suffering so I'm just going to let them suffer and cope the way they want! 
> 
> (╯ ͠❛ ⏥ ͠❛ )╯┻━┻
> 
> Marco is still in denial of everything understandably, but also very stubborn... just like other people... (*cough, cough* Tom *cough, cough*)
> 
> I am not kidding you when I say that I've been writing this story for 5 years now and my friends are still like "Wow, Liv, you're still writing that fan fic?! Don't you have a life?"
> 
> And to that I say, "OF COURSE I DON'T!"
> 
> But yeah, haha... I'll try to update less sporadically but I still have A LOT to reread and cut and rewrite completely. 
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING AS ALWAYS!!!

_Fragments._

_Just like broken, scattered moments in time. Hastily and clumsily, trying to reach out and make sense of it all._

_Shattered glass…_

_Old photographs recovered…_

_Like some sort of dream sequence._

_Memories, resurfacing…_

_Tom's eyes were inverted, a menacing stare. He had me pinned to the wall._

_His mouth was moving and he was saying something._

_Background noise dimmed to a dullness and the only surround sound was his voice. The rest of the world sunk away and all that was left was the feeling I was submerged._

_And all that remained of reality was Tom's voice ringing out - a low, demonic resonance._

_"What is yours is now mine. For as long as you are under my possession, you shall remain obedient. Surrender yourself…"_

_I was entranced by the way his smoldering fingertips swept across my steady gaze - a captivating, hypnotic enchantment from a single motion._

_A heaviness fell over me. The air seemed to tense and smother._

_"Listen carefully, Marco. You will not show any affections for Star. In fact, you will no longer talk to her. If she crosses your path, you will simply ignore her as if she isn't there. If she persists, you will do whatever it takes to get rid of her. If you resist my power, you will suffer the drastic consequences."_

_And then, in an instant, everything flashed. Tom's incantation became lost in an abyss, a dwindling echo._

_Gone in a blink._ _Like a time jump made - a new fragment._

 _A new piece to the indecipherable puzzle._ _Before I even had enough time to make sense of what had just happened, everything had flashed in an instant. Like the lightning of a storm._

_Different images and altering visions began to bleed together. Yet, despite being brief, flashing glimpses of time, I could still recall it all so vividly._

_The strangling grip I had on her throat._

_The way she thrashed and struggled to come up for a gasping breath of air._

_The way I anchored her down in the stream with my own weight._

_The deafening command I couldn't seem to resist, therefore she had to pay dearly for ever crossing me._

_"If she persists, you will do whatever it takes to get rid of her."_

_Her neck, darkly bruised and swollen._

_My hands were a trembling mess._

_Tom - he was there, shouting at me yet I couldn't quite hear him over the deafening white noise._

_The last fragment of recollection - a haunting presence._

_Star, laying by the stream. Though, for some reason, I knew it to be the grim truth. Her stillness, her mute silence. Her face, flushed and devoid of color._

…

I cried out, trying desperately to swat away the hands from my face. 

"No, stop - _stop it!"_ I shouted. My voice was gravelly, on the edge of a break, as if I might cry. 

Her touch drew back quickly. I staggered back, retracting myself up against the wall. 

My breath seemed to be lodged in my throat. The more I tried to heave it, the more my head swayed and the back of my throat stung. Like a wound reopened, sore and raw.

Some sort of quaking, paralyzing entity took over, causing a thunder in my ears, a tremor overtaking my hands. Short, shallow breaths from an unseen force - a tightening grip on my chest. 

When I looked up, Star and Tom were there, latched onto one another. My commotion must've startled her, considering how far back she had to be to stumble backwards into Tom's supporting body. Everything noted her alarm - her erect wings sprung, her alert stare, her grasp reaching for Tom to sustain her balance.

Those memories - that night - how could I have forgotten so easily? Memories, locked away, buried deep - now unleashed, unearthed. How could it all be so foreign yet so…

_Familiar?_

And when I looked back at her, she was gaping at me. As if to seek some sort of answer. As if her thoughts could vocalize through a longing, aching stare. 

_"Why did you do it?"_

"I… I didn't..." My voice was no more than a shaking whisper. "I didn't do it." 

Of course I knew this to be the truth too. Besides, how could I have hurt someone who I had never even met? 

I couldn't listen to these stupid, angelic hallucinations. I might've been a demon, but at least I knew my sins. And if I was going off the fuzzy memories of what Star had brought on to me, it wasn't me that had initiated her whole downfall. 

"It was Tom." And when I spoke, it was resilient and with a newfound confidence.

The true master of it all. The demon of his own disasters. Yes, I had turned the blame to him, yet if the hallucinations were true or not, Tom deserved what was coming for him either way. 

He had been nothing but cruel and spiteful. He deserved it. It was only karma, after all. 

Star's eyes widened, her eyes shifting upwards and over her shoulder to the culprit. Even Tom's face read a funny kind of expression - bewildered or maybe even dumbfounded. Maybe a mix of the two. 

They rose together, just as I had, slowly and steadily. Yet it was Star who had recoiled under Tom's guidance to help her up. Her stare fell to the ground. 

_"Tom…"_ She began. I could practically already hear the rising irritation in her voice. She retracted her arm from Tom's grasp roughly, backing away to measure the distance between them. "What did you _do?"_

I witnessed Tom struggle with the confrontation. He seemed to shrink into himself and his ears drooped in a visible sort of guilt. It was quite entertaining, to say the least. Though something of my observing stare must've agitated him. His eyes met mine, quickly averted, and a growl of audible frustration escaped him. 

Maybe I struck some sort of nerve in him. In any other circumstance, he would've yelled, responded in physical aggression. In fact, I was even waiting for it - _anticipating_ his retaliation. But, for some reason, right now was different. 

And I could only guess. It had to be her - Star. _She_ was his weakness. 

"He possessed me." I said, resulting in a nasty glare in my direction. 

"Hey, you stay out of this!" Tom's voice boomed, pointing sharply in my direction. His teeth were set to break from the grit force he bared them with.

"You _possessed_ Marco? Are you _serious?"_

This time, Tom answered. Though it wasn't the pleasant kind. He was crippling under the spotlight of interrogation - or maybe the incriminating accusation and Star's heavy speculation was wearing him out fast. 

_"No!_ I…" His voice had reached a loud, defensive volume and he was quick to try to save himself from her disapproval. 

_"No?_ What do you mean _no?"_ Star shouted back. She threw her fists down by her sides now and the feathers of her wings seemed to ruffle. 

"Okay, yes, I possessed him! Is that what you wanted to hear, Star?" His arms flailed in the air for dramatic effect, almost as if to entertain Star's interrogation. "You caught me. Are you happy now?" 

The comeback was low and Tom's last line of defense. He was losing control now, losing a fight - and to an _angel,_ nonetheless. I didn't know whether to laugh or not at his misfortune. 

Star's arms were crossed, a distinguishable disdain on her face. Then, she dropped it, a sort of sad expression becoming of her. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and devoid of any anger, just defeat. 

"I should've known." She shook her head, still staring at her feet.

I witnessed Star's face contort in a sort of anguish. And when she fought back, there was a certain venom in her tone, a sharp bitterness that made my chest cave in. I could practically pinpoint the sound of her heart breaking. 

"How _could you?"_ Her voice cracked under the force, breath hitching.

Her eyes darted around the room as if to attempt to make sense of the swarming madness. She shut her eyes tight, held her head in her fists and groaned loudly. 

"You're… you're so… _infuriating!"_

"Oh, _I'm_ infuriating?" 

_"Yes!"_

The verbal feud went on like this for a few more seconds, like a ping pong match. Back and forth. For every defensive claim, there was a snappy remark. 

It didn’t make sense to me, not at first. But as I began to silently observe, slowly it all began to click - their unfiltered talks and underlining comedic bickering. 

They fought like a couple. Like past lovers. 

And the more I listened, the more I gathered.

"Do you even _hear_ yourself?"

"Y'know what? _Fine!"_ Tom demanded, a demonic octave in his howl. "Be mad. Yell at me - I can take it!" 

_Quite a bold request from someone who didn't take open criticism very well._

But if I knew one damn thing about Tom at all, it was that he _loved_ to initiate fights. And if it was a fight he wanted, it was a fight he was going to get. Besides, _he_ was the _Prince_ of the Underworld. Those who dared to defy him should be shown no mercy. They were to bow down to him and obey him.

 _"You_ came to the Blood Moon Ball only to ditch me for Marco!" 

_I definitely don't remember that._

"You almost set Marco on _fire!"_

_Sounds like Tom - but no. Still don't remember that either._

"You encased me in a block of ice! It took me a whole _week_ to thaw!" 

_Okay, I really don't remember that._

Whatever angelic poise Star had, it had now diminished. Wrath was now clouding her tranquility - one of the most dangerous vices of them all. 

_Silly, naive, little angel. How could you let yourself be so easily corrupted?_

_How could you be so blind to your own self-destruction?_

"That isn't the point, Tom! Everything can't be your way. I've _moved on!"_

"See? There it is! The yelling - don't hold back!" The suggestion was more of a demand. He threw his hands in the air as if to surrender and open himself up to Star's rage. 

If he was trying to aggravate her, it was definitely working. Her fiery eyes promised an eruption. Hell, even _I_ had a few choice names for him.

She challenged Tom's eyes, taking him up on his offer. I couldn't blame her. If Tom would've given me the chance, I would've done the same. 

It appears that he has wronged us both, one way or the other. 

"You're absolutely disgusting, you know that?" It was Star's first plan of attack, the first coherent thought she could easily vocalize.  
  
"Yes, that's good! Keep going." He persisted. 

What once was a fire had now grown into feral, soaring anger.  
  
"You're so selfish and immature and obnoxious and I hate you!" Star ceased to catch her breath, assessing another thought, then continuing. "And worst of all, you had to let Marco get involved? And you turned him into… a _demon?"_ She gestured to me from the sidelines now.

 _"What?"_ Tom sputtered at the supposedly insane idea that Star was proposing, as if what she had said was the ultimate sin he had committed. "No, that wasn't me. I didn't-"

He took a step forward, almost as if to try to get her to listen, yet she kept the space between them and backed further away. The Main Hall's enormous size hadn't changed, yet somehow Star had never seemed smaller. The void seemed to eat her whole. She sunk back to the floor, left exhausted from the frustration. 

No, not frustration - _despair._

Despite the sudden silence of their booming voices, their echoes still seemed to linger in its auditorium. Another torch had dimmed in the far distance. 

Star's sobs were faint, yet still had the strength to occupy throughout the vacantness of the Hall. Tom had joined her on the ground, kneeling next to her. His hand fell on her shoulder. She swatted him away.

The realization came slowly, yet when I began connecting the dots, calculating the scenarios, it all struck me at once. 

The nightmares. 

Tom's random outbursts. 

The girl - the angel. _Star._

Even stranger were the little things that suddenly occurred to me, like being unable to stand the heat of the Underworld and the loss of appetite in the presence of the pantry's food.

Even the fact that I knew every one of the castle's servants' names… yet they couldn't quite recall my own. Not that I put in any effort to make myself known throughout our staff, but it still didn't cease to strike me in some odd way.

Hell, if I was questioning everything now - _and I was_ \- maybe even my own spontaneous infection from my wings had some role to play in all of it too. 

They were all connected after all - not just a set of random coincidences. 

We were all brought together - tied together by the grief of an event - a tragedy.

 _Star's tragedy?_


	10. Epiphany

My wings were getting cramped and stiff. I shifted in my chair.

The low rumble of the heavy door was enough to startle me out of my own thoughts. Steady, sluggish footsteps followed. I didn't even need to look to know who it was. 

He ceased in front of me, plummeting down in the seat across the table, releasing a long, exaggerated sigh. 

I thought I made it evidently clear that I wanted nothing to do with him. 

I couldn't care enough to try to understand his intentions. Any attempt to arouse a conversation now was only going to lead to detrimental chaos - and I was sure that he didn't want another altercation in the same night. I was sure his energy had to be just as worn as my own. 

Star had gone back to the Above. That much, I could gather from his return into the dining hall and her absence. I hadn't even bothered to ask since, not only was the silent treatment I was already giving him working, but I couldn't let him know that I cared at all about the situation anyway. 

Besides, I didn't owe him anything, not even my own company.

His motives were baffling, never ceasing to confuse me. One moment, he's throwing me into a brick wall and yelling at me - the next, he's sitting down next to me as if to make casual banter. 

He's lucky I'd even allowed him to sit down. Fortunately for him, I was too exhausted to fight. 

I'd been sitting at the table for so long, fixated on finding the subtle humor in the stone gargoyles on the mantle of the fireplace - even the reason of  _ why  _ exactly the castle's dining room needed a fireplace struck me in some kind of funny way, considering the Underworld was already a sweltering thousand degrees on its own. 

Just another question to add the list. 

_ Not a Prince. Not a brother. Not even a demon.  _

_ How could it be so far from the truth yet, at the same time, make so much sense?  _

The Lucitor family portrait hung daringly on the wall, just above the gargoyles. 

Prince Thomas Lucitor and his father, King of the Underworld. 

_ Only son, only successor.  _

_ No other demon prince.  _

_ Left out of the family portrait.  _

_ Nonexistent, gone, forgotten.  _

But maybe it wasn't just because I was simply forgotten - I wasn't a part of this family.

Just another thought to distract me from my own stupid existential crisis. If I found another thing to obsess over, I was going to go insane. 

I always hated that damn portrait.

I was still a demon, I  _ had _ to be. Despite whatever Tom might've told me - I  _ was  _ a demon. 

Maybe not Tom's brother nor a descendant of royalty, but a demon at most. 

_ But then… who was my real family?  _

_ Did Tom know?  _

_ Did Star know?  _

_ Could she be the answer?  _

I guessed I needed another distraction from my rambling thoughts and that, I could thank Tom for being. As long as he didn't try to disrupt the peaceful bliss and silence, then I'd be truly grateful. Maybe, I wondered, he had only come here for the same as me - a moment of calm to reflect and collect his thoughts. 

Yet something of his demeanor was unsettling, disrupting my own calm. He would sit forward, hold his head in his hands and then lean off of the table to slump back in his chair, only to sit up again and repeat the process. 

The fire crackled quietly and appeared to be settling now. Wouldn't be long until the servants came to tend to it again. 

I witnessed Tom squirm once more before I decided to finally speak. His distraction was enough. 

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" His voice was surprisingly dull - a tough and rigid sound. I lifted my heavy head to see that the expression on his face matched the tone in his voice. His eyes remained unfocused, a bleary stare off into the distance. His eyelids were weighing. 

I'd never seen him look so drained, so tired and…  _ raw.  _ He looked exactly how I felt. 

Some time went by, an anchor of silence. The dying fire of the dining hall withered and gave out a last crackle. I watched it intently. 

"Why did you do it?" The question was simple - one that was meant for a simple answer. 

"What do you mean?" His eyes lazily transferred. He deflected the question and I found myself having to repeat it. 

"Why did you erase my mind?" 

He took a breath. 

Something about the confrontation of that night seemed to bother him -  _ stress  _ him. It was almost like the answers were too painful to give - and the wavering worry in his eyes proved it. 

Maybe it was a sort of guilt, a reluctance to speak about the unspeakable events. 

Still, no matter what it was I might've seen in that moment, I had to remind myself to not take pity on him. He didn't deserve sympathy from the victims of his actions. 

I used to have sympathy for Tom.

If it wasn't for my curiosity and desire to know, I would've neglected his presence altogether. Yet intertwining memories still remained tangled and muddled with the more they stirred. I couldn't bear to sit for another second, alone with my own thoughts. 

I needed to understand.

"You… you asked me to." 

"What?" I tried to stifle a laugh but the absurdity he was proposing was too amusing. 

"You… you wanted me to… to take it all away. You said you didn't… you didn't want to remember anything."

"I… I don't…" I combed my hands through my hair, curling and tugging at it. "No, that's not…" 

A laugh escaped me, yet it wasn't the warm, comforting kind. It was a jarring, bitter sound, one that could sting the air - and by the way I witnessed Tom's ears pin back, I knew it had. 

My skull felt like it was going to explode. I felt an ache behind my burning eyes and I rubbed them viciously with my palms. In the end, the pain only spread, even worse than before. 

"No… no, you're lying." My voice was a frail whisper, yet I still wondered if he could make out the hint of hysteria in it. 

"Marco," 

"This is all a joke - it's… it's a fucking  _ joke, _ isn't it?" My fist collided with the table. It wasn't enough to intimidate or even scare, just a pathetic attempt at anger. I was too sleep-deprived to give a real fight. 

Tom must've felt it too, considering all three of his eyes seemed to stare, no reaction to give. He didn't even seem to be rattled at anything at this point. His exhaustion was causing him to dissociate with the world around him. And when he spoke, his voice was so fragile and small, I couldn't even identify it. 

"Get some sleep, Marco." It was a genuine request - no anger, no sarcasm, no spite.

I watched him slowly rise from his seat at last and make his way into the hallway. I felt as if I was going to cry, though there was no point. To cry over something so stupid now would only prove to Tom that I was afraid - afraid that he was right about me. 

It all made too much sense. The evidence was too overwhelming, playing against me. 

He was right, I was wrong.  _ He  _ had won and  _ I  _ had lost. 

I really hated to say it, but Tom was right. Not just about me, but also about getting some rest. 

But even then, I dreaded that too - the nightmares almost every night. I didn't want to relive it all, not again. 

As reluctant as I was, I found myself getting up and following him. 

Maybe a long, vicious sleep was all I needed to clear my thoughts after all.

And as I entered the hallway, the gigantic, Gothic medieval windows welcomed a warm light in. The screams and groans of agony from the Underworld's inhabitants had died for the night, leaving behind no more than a soft, lulling droning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello fellow readers! 
> 
> First off, I apologize for the long hiatus. I've been so busy lately and I hope I will still be able to find the time to write. Updates are going to be jumpy and without any rhyme or reason. 
> 
> Secondly, I LOVE to hear from all of you commenters and readers, so please don't hesitate to comment or ask questions! 
> 
> Man, writing - even for fun - is hard... but the payoff to see all your kudos and comments is so worth it and I thank everyone who stayed with the fan fic since its very birth! I've let this fic sit for a while and when I finally came back to it after writing the second book, I found it needed A LOT of work and revision. I scrapped the whole fic, yet still wanted my general idea and storyline to not change. Going back and rewriting everything from scratch has been both exciting and a steaming pain in my ass. I had to cut a lot and stitch it back together. In the end though, I am so glad I did!
> 
> Though nothing really happens in this chapter, it still stands to represent how utterly confused Marco is - with who he really is and who Tom and Star know him as. He still can't help but notice the signs around him. 
> 
> This fic is definitely a complicated one, under the tragic consequences I've thrown the characters into and it dances along the line of good and bad - a bit of moral ambiguity here. Tom and Marco both struggle with 'who is the bad guy?' throughout this fic. Marco is still in denial - Tom is in the anger stage and will do anything to blame Marco and point fingers to make himself feel better. What happened that night is still too much for any of them to cope. Star, being the poor victim, will do what she knows best - avoiding the problem altogether and acting almost as if nothing ever happened for the most part. 
> 
> All-in-all, Tom is mad, Marco is in denial, and Star is grieving silently and avoiding her emotions. She is grieving over the loss over what she once believed with all her heart - that Marco was her absolute best friend. She feels betrayed, yet will still show mercy and heal Marco because, after all, he is still her best friend and she still cares about him, even if he did hurt her. 
> 
> Now I don't want to leave this chapter on such a sour and depressing note, so I will say this... Star will be back and this story does have a lighter resolve. You will also be able to see some fluffy, little Starco moments soon too! :D
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and please leave a kudos - it helps a lot!!


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